The Birth Of Worldwide Underground Fénix In Flames
by fantasticly-anonymous
Summary: Remember that little sneak peek between fights where the Trios Team of Jack Evans, PJ Black, and Fénix became instead a Trios (plus one) Team of Worldwide Underground? Wanna see how Taya got the jump on Fénix in that dingy old locker room? If so; enter at you're own discretion! Rated T for some Mature themes and a few swears.
1. The Night

**Who's ready to see the behind the scenes of the behind the scene of that pulse pounding, second season episode of Lucha Underground? Anyone? Yes! You in the back! Step right up and dig in!**  
 **Hope I got the seasoning right!**

Done toweling off after a good warmup, Fénix stowed the reliable hunk of terry-esque fabric in his locker and turned around. Glancing toward the entrance when he heard footsteps approaching.  
Someone who, in the doom and gloom of the hallway, seemed to be... not _struggling_ per se, with the lid of a sports bottle was making their way in.

"These things are always impossible!" They mumbled. Rather loudly. "There; stupid thing's open, _finally_." In walked one of the tallest women Fénix had ever met, by the name of Taya, holding a bottle of blue liquid. The sides of which were dotted with condensation, which made him wonder whether the 'fridge' was having one of its infrequent 'good days'. If so, he could really use a drink right about then.

"Hola, Taya," he said. Alerting her to his presence.

"Oh, hey. Just the Luchador I was looking for!" Fénix couldn't help the confusion that scrunched his face at that. He'd met Taya maybe a handful of times, and each of those awkward-wave moments were because she and his Trios Team 'partners' hung out together after practice.  
They hadn't had the chance for much in the way of pleasantries over the weeks.  
"I just thought, the third member of the soon to be Trios Champions might also like a pre celebration treat. Jack and PJ are _always_ forgetting that sweat is **liquid** leaving your body. Not ' _weakness_ '," she said, a set of air quotes and a 'where did they even _hear_ that' look on her face.

Fénix chortled and accepted the Gatorade from a grinning Taya, thinking it thoughtful of the 'Güera Loca', however unnecessary, to have already broken the seal for him.

"Good luck in your match tonight. I know _every_ member of a team's important, so drinks all around! Wouldn't want Jack and 'The Darewolf' pulling... one and a half duty because 'The Bird Of War' got dehydrated," she said, flipping some hair behind one shoulder. Reminding Fénix of just how many times a match he did the _exact_ same thing with his mascara's dangly feather tassels. Could get annoying. If things were getting intense in the ring. Otherwise; it was a small price to pay for looking that cool.

After a big, grateful swig, he raised the bottle and smiled in thanks. Wondering whether his team mates' friend spoke any more Spanish than they did.  
Working on a team wherein you were more likely to be made fun of than _listened_ to was a challenge all on its own. Although, it was _possible_ that the jokers understood him alright, but had collectively elected to ignore anything he had to say.  
He wouldn't put it past them.

"Muchas gracias..."

"Taya. Good to meet you too." Said the fighter who appeared to be every inch as tall as he was. Proving in barely over a sentence that at least _she_ didn't have a firm grasp -or perhaps no grasp at all- on the Spanish language.  
At least she was trying.

"Gracias por la bebida, y su apoyo," he said, taking another swig. This time indicating the drink by pointing at it.

"Oh! Right. No prob. What're friends of friends for?" That smile of hers was getting wider by the second. Did she think his Spanish sounded funny? Or maybe his voice? Maybe the blue of the sport drink was staining his dientes or lips, or-  
"So..." Taya said, pulling her lips back down over her _pearly_ whites and giving them a little quirk. "You feeling up to this whole Championship Trios match thing?" At the questioning head cant, she went on, "PJ and Jack can be a lot to keep up with, ya know?"

Fénix nodded, "Oh sí, tus amigos pueden ser _realmente_ molesto," he said with an emphatic nod. Not at all perturbed with the possibility of her understanding what he'd said. After all, anyone who stood in a room with those two for more than three seconds would have to agree with him. A _friend_ should be **painfully** aware.

"Uh... right. They're _unique_. But I haven't dropped in on any of your little 'team practice sessions'," she said with a little frown. "You get along well enough to net a sick set of belts?"

"Nos marcharemos con esos cinturones esta noche. Incluso si son súper molesto," stated a Fénix who didn't mind bragging to someone who likely only caught every fifth word. Felt good to be confident.

"Oh. Well... good to hear," said Taya, glancing around the room as if the translation might superimpose itself somewhere handy.  
Fénix loved it when people pretended to understand what he was saying. The more _patent_ the lie of comprehension, the more entertaining, and Taya was getting pretty darn entertaining right about then. Funny enough that he used a laugh to stifle an out of place yawn.  
"Least, those idiots're good for _something_."

"Si, es verdad!" He confirmed, taking another draught from the quickly emptying bottle of electrolytes and sugars. Hoping the liquid would give him back a little of his waning pep.  
 _Really_ weird, that. He was usually bouncing, if not **wired** before a match.

"You lookin' a little tired there, Fénix? Didn't get enough sleep?" Asked the Luchadora, one eyebrow and opposite corner of the mouth quirked.

"Dormí bien. Estoy bie-" Fénix cut off the statement before it had the chance to be proven a lie. Suddenly feeling as if getting himself a little closer to the ground would be a _good_ idea.  
What was up? He **never** got light headed.  
He moved to sit on a bench conveniently not four feet off to one side, plopping down with more force than he'd meant to. Brow scrunched at how... tired his eyes were suddenly feeling. And at that funny feeling in his stomach.

He didn't bother hiding his concern, when meeting eyes with a Taya who'd followed him to stand by the bench and was now towering above. He also didn't hide his surprise at the Güera's open grin.

"Ha! So cute! You've _obviously_ never been roofied before! Don't worry, little birdy, we're just gettin' you out of the way for _this_ fight," said by a fighter who seemed to be going in and out of focus. Which prompted Fénix to shake his head. Which he shook again when he realized he hadn't understood some of those words until he'd managed a belated double take.  
'Out of the way? _This_ fight?' What was Taya talking abou- ' ** _Roofied_** '?!

He'd only heard of such things happening in bars! And to people more... defenseless than a full fledged, Championship winning Luchador!

Had the world flipped upside down? Were nice, relatable people like Taya going around _poisoning_ people with unknown substances just for poops and giggles now?! What if he _died_?!  
Would his Mamá y Papá ever get closure? Would poor, no doubt well- _ish_ intentioned Taya be sent to jail and locked away for veinte a la vida, sobre un accidente? Just for trying to- Wait. How would this benefit her friends?

"Oh, poor thing. Lemme help you with that," the extremely tall blonde and rosado haired fighter said, leaning down and taking the nearly drained sport drink bottle from Fénix's worryingly slack hand. "Wouldn't wanna spill this on your nice costume pants. Might stain," she explained. Chucking the evidence, cap screwed back on with a flourish, into a conveniently _not_ overflowing trash can.

"¿Qué estás- Por qué estás..." His tongue was starting to stick against his teeth. Words getting lost on their way from his mind to his lips anyway, as he stared in wonderment at the dismal colors of the locker room beginning to bend and blend with Taya's far more festive hues. She was almost as colorful as Fénix himself. And she was absolutely _looming_ , seeming to come closer and...  
was her hand stroking the side of his face?

"Mind if I take a peek at the mystery behind the mask? I won't take pictures. Promise," she cooed the last word as her fingers finished inching their way along his jaw and lit upon the button fastens underneath.

Fénix felt a surge of fight or flight hit him full force in the heart, desperation peaking in his clouding mind, pulsing strength into extremities that had begun feeling as if they'd be hard pressed to support a fawn.  
Turned out they had enough left in them to get him off the bench and all the way up in the Luchadora's cara, hands coming up and latching onto pale shoulders with grip a shadow of its normal ferocity. His stomach sank when he realized he couldn't feel his fingers.

"Fine, Fiesty, mask stays on. _Geez_ , no need to get-"

"¿Por qué? Jack y PJ, tus amigos, me necesitan... o no cualifi-" The cutting smile enough to put his floundering mouth to silence, Fénix drew in an unsteady breath. Feeling the while as if even his _lungs_ were being affected by the tainted, soporific surprise.

"Tch. It's not obvious? There's no rule book says it has to be _you_ playing number three," The scoff at the beginning a nice touch, Fénix couldn't help but hang off Taya's words. Like he was starting to feel he was doing from her shoulders.  
"Naw. Johnny's taking your place, pajarito, and there's... mmh, _nothing_ you can do about it. So you might as well stop fighting the cocktail and have a nice little lie down." The Güera leaned in closer, her eyebrows taking up most of Fénix's weirdly zoomed in field of vision, and added, "I bet you deserve it." Her breath felt like a humid desert breeze against skin that was beginning to crawl.

Fénix's left hand slipped off the mountain of a Canadian's shoulder just as one of his knees buckled. Eyes screwing shut as his drugged body resigned itself to becoming a smudge on a hard concrete floor. Opening when instead, a chest softer than most he ever needed to crush into a mat squished him against itself, assisted by a pair of warrior strong arms that'd somehow snuck under his and yanked him into a... hug position?

"Woah there! Take a seat before you _regret_ standing, brother."

"No eres mi... hermana," Fénix managed before his whiteboard mind could erase the black, impermanent marker of a sentence.

"Figure of speech, Sleepy," said the Sequoia-esque one easing him down for a seat he'd barely gotten himself up from... an absolute _lifetime_ ago. His muscles were going- had gone pliant by then, so even though he didn't want to, he sat obligingly and just concentrated on keeping his head from lolling clean off his neck.  
"Go on; close your eyes. I won't let you break your head. Or your funky chicken comb for that matter," Taya said, picking at the upright feathers adorning Fénix's crest.

"No soy... un pollo. Soy un Féni-"

"Yeah, yeah; you're a Phoenix. Big whoop," said with much sarcasm and a little zing. " _I'm_ getting **bored**. So if you could," the blonde made a 'darse prisa' motion with both hands, then set her -at least, currently- far stronger than his arms akimbo. Perhaps getting comfortable for a wait.

Fénix shook his head, the somnolence from earlier about filling every spare corner, forcing out useful things like 'the ability to talk a full sentence' , and 'how to fill your lungs to capacit-' uh-oh!

"Now don't go hyperventilating on me! You're body's just a little ahead of you; already knows it should be **sleeping** , and that's plenty oxygen for someone who's already gone to Dream Town," the 'Loca' seemed to both chastise and -and Fénix knew how utterly absurd it would be- comfort the desperate not to die, fully kitted out, Professional Wrestler.

Fénix, no idea why, reached out an uncoordinated hand and grabbed a fistful of Taya's sweatpants. Though, even _he_ could tell that all she'd need to do to get free was twitch backwards. Or to either side. Or wait a few seconds for his grip to slip on its own. Which is exactly what happened.  
Kinda an embarrassing moment for both of them really.

Taya, unmoved by the handsy gesture, stepped even closer, made a 'face' which included a scrunched nose and the flashing of some front teeth in a move that decidedly _wasn't_ a smile, and put a hand on Fénix's mask for a second time. Another hand coming to rest on one of the younger Luchador's collar bones.

"No! Mi mascara.. es mi-"

"Seriously? We already went through that. Mask stays on, I _know_ ," she sniped, as Fénix realized the offending five digited appendix was cupped round the _back_ of his head. "You 'Enmascaradas' are all the same! 'No! My mask **is** me!' Pth!" She said, blowing a raspberry at the end which startled the guy she was just standing there, touching.  
"Just looks like you need some help laying down for your nap," she explained. Then, she set her closer knee up on the bench next to Fénix's hip and, using it as a pivot point around which to maneuver the fighter, pushed down on the tattooed chest with just the right amount of pressure.

Fénix would have absolutely _flopped_ backwards if it wasn't for the mitt around the back of his head, exerting plenty strength to cradle him down without injuring anything more than his pride.  
He, in fact, almost felt like thanking the Güera. Almost.

"Now, don't go tellin' me that's not better. I bet your head's swimming less, right? Room stop spinning?" Fénix willed himself _not_ to nod in confirmation to the... potentially taunting, though accurate, words.  
Taya's hand slipped out from under his head and moved next to his covered ear on the bench, supporting her upper body as she leaned down, closer and closer to his face. Fénix stared listlessly at the look of curious concentration and a pair of lightly puckered lips approaching his... was Taya coming in for a ki-  
Shocked at the realization that, if he fell into a drug induced coma out in the open locker room, _anyone_ who had access to the place would be given the best shot they'd ever get to take ' **advantage** ' of him in any way they pleased, his mind short circuited and, in the time it took him to roll out from under the most dangerous person in the room, his entire body broke out in a cold sweat.

He hit the floor _hard_ and tried, the man of a thousand lives tried hard as he could to make it to his feet and get the hell _out_ of that suddenly perilous locker room, but his legs, just like every single other muscle group in his doped up body, felt like mush.  
He ended up half crawling, half dragging himself little more than a yard before his arms gave out all together and he ended up face down on the grime covered concrete floor. No better off than he'd been on the bench. Though, perhaps more likely to have medics called on him if anyone with half a heart happened to stumble over him on their way to a rusty locker.  
Who in their right mind fell asleep on the floor, right?

"Daang, brother. I know they're called 'date rape' drugs, but _no_ one's got that planned for you," a small pause as it sounded like the Canadian waited for Fénix to catch his breath. "I was just checking. Thought you'd _finally_ fallen aslee-"

"Taya, what the heck, man?" A raucous entry startled both Luchadores and brought their attentions to the locker room entrance.

"That's our Trios Team partner!" Called a second voice.

"Not anymore," declared a smug Johnny Mundo as he entered the locker room on the heels of a befuddled Jack Evans and PJ Black. A completely spent Fénix unable to do anything more than watch and listen as his body betrayed him in what might end up being one of the most desperate hours of need of his relatively young life.  
The gang was all there.  
He _prayed_ that what Taya had told him turned out to be la verdad honesto a Dios.  
Otherwise... he hoped the drugs she'd given him were as powerful as they felt. Because, no matter whether he was aware in the _moment_ of... what the clique who did everything together might well have planned for him -Por favor, Dios, no-, at least he wouldn't remember it. Not well.

Through half lidded eyes and a feeling of dread strong enough to eclipse most any he'd experienced since he was old enough to sleep with the lights off, he tracked the Mundo's approach to his side.  
He didn't see the boot to the temple coming. Hadn't expected it. Hadn't had the strength left even if he _had_ to protect against it.  
So he took it full force, feeling the body rocking impact only through a building wall of numbness and thinking in a far off corner of his winking mind, that _this_ was far kinder than a poisoned well wishing gift from a supposed friend.

Hoping they did him the decency of leaving his mask on, the _still_ youngest in the room felt his grip on reality slip; then, his last vestige of consciousness sputter out, crash, and burn.  
All to the sound of riotous cheers.

"Bit excessive, John?" Whispered a Taya who'd leaned in toward the head near hers as inconspicuously as possible.

"No way. Helps build team morale. Look how excited they are," a pleased as pie Johnny Mundo whispered just as quietly, leaning in a smidge closer. Neither of them interested in being overheard.

"...Sure," she whispered back, wondering whether Johnny caught the obvious uncertainty in her voice. By the looks of it, he might've stopped listening by then.

The four of them filed out of there, surprise mission **accomplished** , and made a huge splash in their debut entrance as the Worldwide Underground. A name which their Temple's owner-promoter was, understandably, one hundred percent behind.

Taya, not able to squeegee the sound of Johnny's boot hitting the already _out_ of it fighter's head, slipped away from her clique right when they were at their most distracted; when the crowd started cheering and jeering their Trio's Team taking the stage and hamming it up.  
Compelled by some strange feeling akin to... not _worry_ per se, she found a funny little break room it'd never been her displeasure to visit before and walked right in, as if she owned the place. Turning heads just like her Daddy taught her.  
You want- _need_ something; you act like you already earned it.

"Hey, medic people?" The three not very imposing, blue clad EMT all sitting around on plush, old looking seats nodded. "Yeah, there's some masked fighter passed out in the locker room. Thought ya might like to-" Two medics darted past the stilt legged fighter without bothering with eye contact or even an 'excuse me'. "...know. Rude," said a Taya who wasn't sure why she'd bothered.

The third, and most pathetically tiny, of the EMT pack broke Taya out of her quagmire of disdain, centered around the fact that she was wasting her own very valuable time, with the clearing of a throat.  
"Thanks for the tip, Saboteador." The last word positively _growled_ out of a face contorted by a feral snarl.

Hoping the spinal shiver didn't show on her face, the 'Guerra Loca' moved just a bit, allowing the medic with the bag that looked two ounces from tearing a shoulder out of joint to jaunt past and out of there.  
To Taya's dismay, the blue jacket stopped right next to her and turned to squint straight up into her face.

"Clara, we're gonna need the bag!" Came an echoed yell, sounding as if it'd bounced around at least two corners before reaching their little face off.

"Te veo," said the shorty apparently known as Clara, backing out the break room. Warp speed.

"Yeesh. It's gotta be hell working with _that_ one," Taya whispered to herself, shaking out her platinum tresses and trying to wipe the image of an angry, gnome-medic from her short term memory. Before it had the chance to be committed to long term.

Taya made it back ringside in time to catch most of the beginning of the match and ended up spacing for a good chunk after. More of her attention dedicated to trying _not_ to think about the subterfuge she'd committed than she was comfortable with.  
She'd built a career out of knocking people around. Why should the business with Fénix have felt any different?

As one of her teammates ascended the ropes, Taya's attention was pulled across the main hall, to a shadowy hallway opening and an EMT compelled, Fénix laden stretcher making quick progress in a general 'away from the locker room' direction.

The flash she'd caught? The kid looked like he'd been _poisoned_... Right. That's exactly what she'd done to him. 'Roofie' just sounded a lot less harsh. It wasn't hard for the severity of such a thing to get lost in translation with such a fun street name.

Taya abandoned the ring, right in the heat of a Championship main event spot, to trail behind the medical entourage, eyes ghosting over her handiwork. Managing to overhear snips of back and forth rife with enough 'medic' jargon that most of it went over her head.  
She _did_ get that they thought the kick to the head was the sole cause of the kid's unresponsive state. Concerned murmurs coming every time they slowed their pace _just_ enough that the next of them could take their turn shining a pen light in Fénix's half lidded eyes.

"Again with that, Clara?" Asked the guy hunched over the stretcher. Quick walking like a pro without even needing to look where he was going.

"There wasn't any evidence of a drink-"

"We barely stopped to _look_ for one!" The Tasmanian Devil-esque one shot back at the 'Ponytail' doing most of the pushing. "You didn't even let me check the trash!"

"Contaminated. Or way too many cups and bottles to choose from. Besides; if he was poisoned, when's the kick to the head come in to it?" All good points, thought Taya. About the time she'd had _enough_ of the incessant whining.

"Hey!" She yelled, knowing that with someone's life seemingly in jeopardy, they'd never give her the time of day unless it sounded like some sort of emergency.  
The stretcher stopped, three heads whipping around to locate the trouble.  
"I saw him... drinking a Gatorade earlier. In the locker room."

"On it," rushed the tallest of the blueys as he jogged back the way they'd come.

"What color, Gringa?"

"Electric Blu-"

"Blue one, Federico!" Called Ponytail, hands cupped around her mouth to help the sound hit home.

"Just _how_ many of those bottles you think he's gonna find; he needs to know what **color**? Eh, Gabby 'Two Shoes'?"

"... Sorry for not taking your concerns seriously. You're a great-"

"Hey, long as _he_ ," said Clara, pointing at the patient who'd yet to return to the waking world, "turns out okay, so will everything else." Then, realizing this was probably a rare glimpse of the 'softer' side of the Wolverinetine medic, Taya watched with curiosity as the two locked eyes over their patient. "You're also a great-"

"Found it!" Exclaimed a bounding Federico, nearly empty Gatorade clutched in one skin tight gloved hand.

"Aaand _he's_ a screw u-"

"Can you believe there was only _one_?"

"Good find. Lemme?" So the guy handed it over to Gabby, who popped the lid and took a good whiff. Then, before she was satisfied, she _licked_ the bottle lip and swished her tongue around inside her mouth.  
 _Gross_.

"Well?" The other two prompted in unison.

"Uh, I don't drink Gatorade, but it- Yep. Yep! That's spiked." Ponytail announced for the class, a cringe breaking through her 'professionalism'.

"Alright! Doc Stillwater's gonna have a hot date with a roofied-"

"Sí, Clara. We really need to start listening to you, don't we?" Asked a Federico who was back at it with the penlight. New information marking his movements with a fresh confidence.  
"Pupil response makes more sense now."

"Let's get him loaded. Paddy's gettin' lonely."

"It's creepy when you refer to the Ambulance as a sentient being. You know that, right?" All Federico received in reply was an 'accomplished' grin and a worrying chuckle. "Of _course_ you do."

"You two are- Lets move," said Gabby, and the only one out of them who seemed to have their head on straight pushed hard. The stretcher juttered, the penlight was shoved in a utility pocket, and the three disappeared down the hallway exit.  
Unfortunately, that left one not so angry medic standing in the middle of the space, staring straight through Taya's mascara.

"Yo veo..." Said with a chin flicked up and an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, whatever, weirdo. Just make sure the kid's okay," Taya said. Unsure what would be considered admitting guilt, but feeling compelled to respond just the same.

"That's my _job_ , chica. Maybe you should stick to _yours_. Doesn't look like **that's** ," Clara jammed a thumb at the exit farther down the hall, "sittin' too well."

"Psh, shut up. Cerrado tu boca."

"Uh... I'mma pretend you didn't say that," said while backing to catch up with the rest of the team, who sounded like they were opening up some- right. The ambulance. "Maybe stick to English too." Then with a hand raised in a stiff wave the EMT turned and ran out the back door.

"Yeah. _Definitely_ **hell** to work with," Taya said, rolling her eyes at what she'd just witnessed. Wondering the entire walk back to the ring why it was that she'd followed the medics. Sure, it was cool to see professionals wheeling somebody off, but she could see that any old day. Almost.  
What couldn't be seen just any old day, was all her friends fighting in a Triples Team _Championship_ match, and she'd skipped out on a **chunk** of it... for that? To be insulted? What was even _wrong_ with her Spanish?! She'd taken it in high school! One semester...

All the Güera Loca knew for sure; she didn't like the look of the younger fighter on the gurney. Ostensibly half dead, with medics poking and prodding, asking him to tell them 'how many fingers, sir-', 'his name's Fénix. Don't you listen to the announcers?', 'Just trying to follow procedu-', 'Ai, Dios mío!'

All entertaining... but _she'd_ been the one to put him there, and not with her boots. Not in a fight where they were being paid to beat each other to a pulp, but with a smile and a friendly offer of electrolytes.

"Dang." Looked like the medic was right. She really wasn't cut out for this. With a huff, she turned and started back towards the ring. Pausing only for a moment when she heard an engine turn over.  
"Guess next time, I'll just have to take the boots to 'em. Personally," she said to herself, shaking off the feeling of... ill at ease best she could. The roar of an excited crowd helping wash away the after image of a drugged, potentially concussed Luchador and the three determined EMT carting him away.

Phoenixs always rise again. This one wasn't gonna be any different.

Taya walked back out into the main hall, knowing somewhere in her that she'd never look at Fénix the same way again. _Not_ worrying that her reflection might look a little accusatory next time she found herself in front of a mirror, she realized she wouldn't be messing with anyone's drink... again.


	2. The Morning

Feeling as washed out and hung up to dry as an old cashmere sweater, Fénix opened his eyes. Only to blink **hard** at the admittedly rather dim and flickery fluorescent lights above.  
 _Why_ , God?  
The pounding in his head, feeling like something was trying to bust out the side of his skull, made thinking _extra_ challenging, but he took a stab at it anyway.

Uh, this was a hospital? Yeah. He was in el Hospital? Probably had something to do with that **headache**. Wait. Hospital, headache; his mask!  
A hand flew up with just enough coordination to avoid poking himself right in the eye, and blissfully felt leather and not bare skin.

Fénix allowed himself a sigh of relief, then buttoned the closure under his chin. Not interested in having the thing slip off in some freak accident with staff in the room. He knew patient confidentiality was a thing taken seriously in the medical profession, but he'd also heard that bribes and flattery could _take_ a personal places if they knew how to throw them around. He wasn't interested in giving out any -more?- chances for having his face appear in an Internet search.

A little laying there, breathing deeply, pretending his head wasn't doing its all to extrude his brain through one ear, and his mind cleared enough that thinking became doable.

So... The Trios match! For the _Championship_! Is that how he'd- That didn't seem right. Somehow, his body, though sluggish and feeling worn down, didn't feel as if it'd fought that team he, Jack, and PJ had been scheduled and training to. Their opponents were among the greatest to ever step in a Libre ring, so no matter how early he might have been taken out; he'd be feeling it more places than just his head.

Plucking up some fortifying courage, Fénix moved his head with slow care to one side, wanting to take in more of the plain Jane of a room he'd be staying in until the staff let him sign walking papers.  
More than anything else, including the few other beds crammed into the sheet partitioned room, what caught his attention was an IV line leading right into the crook of his non dominant arm's elbow.

Okay. No need to get worried. It was probably a mix of standard procedure and fluids. Maybe some anti nausea liquid or **really** weak pain killers too.

Not interested in staring at the way his skin looked like it'd swallowed a plastic straw and was enjoying a refreshing drink, Fénix inched his head in the other direction. Eventually bringing into view a funky 'wooden' side table and a slip of paper propped to a stand on the slightly crinkled surface.  
Huh. Upon consecutive 'bring the thing into focus' blinks, he concluded that it was a single sheet of note paper folded in half so that it could stand. And that it had his name on it. Or close to it, anyway. The wrong letter was accented, but who was he to complain?

Luckily situated on the non cannulized arm's side, Fénix reached out with minimal difficulty and retrieved el papel.

"Hope the head's not killing you. Feel better soon!  
-Taya"

"La Güera Loca?" Fénix whispered after a quick re-read. Why would Taya, of all people have left him a get well not- No way!  
Fénix glanced over at the super old side table and... Yes. There was a short legged chair that looked like it had been shoved up next to it, not at all far from the bed.

But he barely knew Taya. They'd barely exchanged an 'Hola,' 'Back atcha,'! Why in the world would she have come visit him in the hospital?  
A stronger pulse from his temple forced his less than dexterous fingers to relinquish the note and instead grope at the side of his head. Hoping putting some pressure on the offending area would relieve some of the pain.  
Ow. Not his best idea yet. Felt like his _skull_ was bruised.

He brought his hand away and watched as the fingers jittered, not appreciating being put to use so. But, staring at his hand... reminded him of something. Something from last night, at the Temple. Before the fight.  
He'd been given a sport drink. By... someone his own height. Who had blond hai- Taya!

So the Canadian had come to wish him luck and give him a drink?  
He seemed to recall them sharing some enjoyable conversation as well... but the rest of the night was a big wash of weird colors and... emotions he didn't know what to think of.

Fénix, feeling both more and less confused than when he'd woken up, read la carta once more, lips pulling into a tiny smile, and set it on the side table.  
Taya and he were friends now? At least she seemed nicer than those jerks he was forced to call 'teammates', who- Madre de Dios!  
The Championship!  
Had they won? Had his injury cost them a set of sick belts? What- ah, he'd just ask somebody later. His head was hurting too much for that anyway.

So the Bird of War caught the attention of the first staff member looking person to walk past the open door and waited with as much patience as he could muster for the Doctor to show. The while musing what this new friendship might hold in store for him and 'La Güera Loca'.

A Güera who'd yanked herself out of bed _way_ earlier than anyone in their right mind would by choice; cursing her stupid conscience for not letting her get any well deserved shut eye, while shoving powerful legs roughly, one at a time, into a pair of jeans she'd found on the floor.

Not bothering with a comb nor makeup or coffee or _food_ , Taya'd stumbled out her duplex's front door and warped her little blue car over to the nearest hospital. Knowing that was where all the Luchadores were taken if and when something serious happened to them. Or, in this particular instance, was _done_ _ **to**_ them.

She signed herself in under her ring name and waited most of the fifteen or so minutes until visiting hours officially began, before flipping the clock the bird and just pretended she was allowed to go wherever the hell she wanted.  
Finding the right room took a little, mostly because it was hidden on a massive floor dedicated to recovery and non-emergency cases, but she wasn't about to reveal her 'lowly visitor' status to anyone by _asking_ where to find the masked wrestler.  
Besides; all the rooms had numbers by the door, and she'd memorized... most of Fénix's. So, no sweat!

Nodding at yet another hall roaming attendant, Taya skidded to a stop and back tracked, pretty sure that that last number matched up best out of all she'd seen with the one the person behind the desk had read off a sheet.  
Bingo.  
Nearest the door, privacy curtains parted completely, a Wrestler _still_ wearing a mask that looked just like a chicken was asleep on an almost comfortable looking hospital bed. Just like Taya'd like to be right about then. Asleep.

She walked in, spotted a chair off in one corner, picked the thing up and set it by the ugly little side table butted up against Fénix's bed.  
Not sure whether she actually wanted to sit by the fighter she'd -helped- put in the infirmary, she rested a knee on the chair and put a hand on the bedsheet, near an unmoving hand which looked different without its standard white fight wrappings.

She bet the staff had taken the mask off at some point to assess the severity of the head trauma, but she also figured Dario had some sort of 'arrangement' going with whoever ran the place that would make it very painful on anyone who tried sneaking a snapshot of his fighters in such a situation. So she wasn't worried for the kid's anonymity.  
The IV in the arm was a tad concerning, but made sense considering the Luchador likely hadn't woken since that gnarly kick to the melon, courtesy one Johnny Mundo.

A minute ticked by and Taya moved to plant her keister on the chair, starting to _feel_ the unyielding nature of its build in her knee.  
She sat there and stared at the Luchador, wondering why she was there- why she'd dragged her sorry self out of a perfectly good bed at the ass crack of dawn, just to... Why _was_ she here?

Did she want to see Fénix with her own eyes; make sure he was okay?  
She'd done that. Still sitting there. Staring.

Did she want to... apologize? Haha! The guy probably wouldn't remember _anything_ from the previous night. So, apologies would be pretty much pointless and just cause confusion and concern in the younger fighter.

Taya sighed, coming to the conclusion that she just plain felt guilty. And that she hadn't been able to get a full night's sleep because even her circadian rhythm knew she was the party... eighty percent responsible for the kid's predicament.  
The other twenty percent could be split between the unconscious man himself, and the one who'd thought _kicking_ a defunct teammate in the head was a good substitute for a pep talk. What the _hell_ , Johnny?  
And, not to blame the victim here, but the little Birdy had to be pretty gullible to trust a person he'd never even _spoken_ more than two words- who accepts drinks from **strangers**!

But... No. That wasn't fair. She was a _really_ convincing actor. In fact, if Fénix remembered anything from before the scheduled fight, it was probably going to be how nice and thoughtful Taya, 'La Güera Loca' was.

Giving her head a good shake, Taya realized that Fénix could be down for quite the count, _and_ that if he was; she sure didn't want to sit around in a room full of sick people until he finally woke up.  
She opened an almost stuck shut drawer on the front of the pathetic side table and snatched out the note pad and pen that each had the hospital's name inscribed indelibly for the world to see.  
Ignoring how annoying that was, Taya wrote out the most sincere, non-apology, non-Lucha related well wish she could, then folded the single sheet in half and wrote 'Feníx' on the front. Rather proud that she'd remembered the Spanish spelling for the name.

Putting the pen and pad back where they'd come, Taya looked up at what sounded strangely like a hand twitching against low thread count sheets. Uh-oh. Did that mean she'd written the note for nothing?

Taya, not one to enjoy hard work going to waste, leaned closer to the recumbent fighter's head. Eventually standing from the seat to get a good look from up above, marveling at how unperturbed the face she peered into appeared. Not at all like what she'd seen for a majority of their encounter the night last.  
Oh- That time she saw the little twitch the fingers did, looking almost as if searching for something just out of their grasp. Also caught that facial scrunch, and the slight uptick in the amount of air each breath swallowed down.

Fénix was waking up, and Taya'd come to the snap decision that she didn't want to be the first person the Luchador saw upon rejoining the land of the wakeful. What if he had _questions_?  
"Bleh," mouthed a Taya who definitely wasn't down for that. Placing the makeshift card standing upright on the nasty little side table. Right where it was sure to be see-  
She froze at the soft moan and 'What the hell time is it?' style breath that seemed to bring life into the Luchador's entire frame. Transfixed, Taya stood there, slightly bent over the waking fighter. Something in her not yet satisfied enough to let her go home and get some decent shut-eye.

Then the kid's peepers opened, one lid a tad slower than the other, and Taya jerked back. Managing to sidestep the low chair and ghost her way out of the room without being found out.  
A huge sigh of relief the first thing out of her mouth as Taya hit a safe distance for it out in the hallway, she found she was still close enough to hear the ' _Why_ am I awake?' sounds of the guy who insisted his motif did not resemble that of a chicken.

She paused there, feeling the urge to pace back and forth, and listened to the unmistakable sound of someone one-handing a piece of paper. At least it wasn't getting crumpled and thrown out the door.

"La Güera Loca?" Came a voice Taya almost didn't recognize. Weak sounding and rough around the edges. But... not angry, nor afraid. Didn't think the note was some sort of death threat or taunt or-  
A hiss and the dropping of paper onto bedsheets had Taya two steps closer to the door in a heartbeat. But she stopped herself and executed an about-face instead.

Going in there wouldn't do either of them any good. The nicest thing she could do for Fénix at that moment, was make sure somebody who could actually _help_ found him, tout de suite.

So Taya, head held high, utilized her long legs to excellent effect and found herself a hospital person to inform about a Masked Wrestler in that wing waking up and needing some pain meds. Thumb pointing behind herself in a rather bored fashion as the _shorter_ attendant looked at her like she was some sort of Yeti.  
Making sure the nurse or orderly or doctor or whatever took off in the right direction, Taya speed walked for the nearest exit that would get her to her car and back home to the now rather welcoming thought of a full morning's sleep.

The drive back, she couldn't help wondering what she'd do if Fénix blamed her for... everything.  
But the thought that worried her _most_ : What if Fénix thought they were friends?

Accelerating from a stop sign, Taya decided that, no matter what conclusion the injured Luchador drew, she was gonna treat him better than dirt this time around. Maybe even like a human being.  
Even if he _was_ a funky, chicken looking Phoenix.

 **When I saw that scene on my television screen, I imagined that Taya would want to take the most sure fire route available.**  
 **So, sure; she could jump Fénix in the locker room and lay him out, but what if he heard her coming and she wasn't able to subdue him without too much noise and was found out? Big trouble.**

 **Then I thought of the possibility of Taya having a heart somewhere under that persona of hers and that's where the rest of it came in!**

 **Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed that little sneak peek at what happens when the cameras aren't on, and what it might be like for someone like Taya to feel remorse over the committal of arguably evil actions. Until next time,**  
 **~Anonymous**


End file.
